onehundredsixtyfour.

At the moment, it’s raining outside. It makes me wonder how many other places in the world its raining too. It makes me wish that I could just jump onto a plane and fly to the different places, and just watch how people reacted to the rain. Watch how the rain would make the curious kids run out and search for worms, laughing with each other while opening their mouths hoping for some water to quench their parched throats. Then I would want to fly to a metropolitan city to watch the busy people rush through the streets, covering their heads with newspapers and briefcases, cussing because the puddles were splashing onto their new pants for work. After that I would want to go to a place where a whole family was huddled under the protection of a large red umbrella, where the children listened to their parents sing songs about the rain and its greatness. Lastly, I would fly back home where the delicacy of the droplets would lightly drum on the rooftops, spinning out beneath the wheels of the neighborhood cars cruising by. I would sneakily show up at your house, ring your doorbell, you would answer the door surprised, and step out onto the porch with me. We would gaze into one anothers eyes, as I could watch the drops of rain hit your eyelashes. Then we would lean in to each other, locking our lips, and it wouldn’t matter if the rain was making my hair frizz, if it was cold outside, if our favorite shoes were being drenched. The only thing that would matter at that moment in time would be you and me.

And in that moment I swear we were infinite.